


Small Town Mentality

by zorilleerrant



Category: American Gods - Neil Gaiman, Southern Vampire Mysteries - Charlaine Harris
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-06
Updated: 2017-01-06
Packaged: 2018-09-15 05:24:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9220625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zorilleerrant/pseuds/zorilleerrant
Summary: Wednesday takes Shadow to a small town. They eat at Merlotte's.





	

Shadow was pretty much used to blending into the background by this point, not much more than a prop for Wednesday to gesture to on occasion. Which occasions in particular, Shadow hadn’t quite got a grasp on, but it happened with reassuring regularity, and sooner or later, Shadow would have the pattern down, or the meeting would end. All the while, Wednesday kept up a steady stream of conviction.

Shadow had learned to tune that out, too.

This time, they were in an out of the way diner in an out of the way town, not a place of power, but not really a place devoid of it, either. It reminded Shadow of Lakeside. Not quite, because Shadow was just passing through, not a new resident, so instead of offering him a tour or trying to get his home set up, it was just local after local sending business the way of a friend of theirs, but it had got them to the place where Wednesday’s friend was waiting, so it worked out in reasonable small town fashion.

The man had tipped a glass of whiskey at them, grinning, and downed it, and gestured for them to sit. This particular friend of Wednesday’s had a long, soft coat and a particularly dashing looking top hat, and Shadow and Wednesday weren’t the only people he grinned at, although they were the only people where the grin wasn’t immediately followed by a wink, but instead an efficient handshake. Shadow felt a little let down by this, although he couldn’t tell you why.

Wednesday broke off to flirt with the waitress, periodically, though her deeply unimpressed expression left Shadow to believe that the flirtation was more for form’s sake than anything; she was a plain looking woman, anyhow, not skinny enough nor young enough for Wednesday’s tastes, as far as Shadow could keep track of them. She rebuffed him politely, though, smiling more genuinely at Shadow and their companion, and didn’t hesitate to check on their table whenever they ran low on water or harder drinks, and told them in no uncertain terms which foods were best.

Shadow found himself quite liking her.

She’d given them a strange look at first, when they walked up to the booth, or maybe they’d just been caught in the periphery of the strange look she was giving the customer already there. Someone she knew, Shadow guessed, or someone she thought she knew, who was actually someone else right now, something Wednesday had explained with the expectation that Shadow would argue, though he hadn’t.

Shadow hoped she’d chalk it up to him reminding her of someone. That happened more reliably with white people, and it happened more reliably still with people that Wednesday misdirected, or that Shadow thought particularly hard at, telling them they didn’t really mind one way or another. Well, it didn’t necessarily help, but it didn’t hurt, and sometimes it seemed to work out alright.

He wondered whether she really did know the man who was being borrowed to play chariot to a god, and hoped she wasn’t too worried about him. He hoped this because he knew the man would be fine. He would have hoped it anyway, but he would’ve felt bad about it if things were the other way around.

The conversation didn’t really concern him, apart from the haphazard gestures, and Shadow picked at his basket of fries.

“So how long you folks sticking around for?” the waitress asked Shadow as she brought another round of drinks.

“Just the afternoon,” Shadow told her, and no, it wasn’t his imagination, she was looking oddly at Wednesday. Maybe because of all the flirting, which he’d seemed to give up on for now. “We’re on a little bit of a cross country road trip.”

Shadow could’ve sworn he saw a skeptical look cross her face, but it was replaced quickly enough by an enthusiastic description of places that could be found right here in town, as well as all across the state. There was just a little bit of a civil war museum, if he liked history, just down the road a ways. Shadow agreed this sounded nice.

He did like history, he thought to himself, but maybe of an older kind, maybe not the kind with corroborating display cases and statuettes. Maybe he only liked the kind of history clouded by age, where the parts that were true and the parts that were made up were one and the same, because there was no one to say any differently. It was a different sort of history, the kind that could only be told through stories.

Then Shadow thought he might be getting a little too philosophical, and he was either having trouble holding his liquor these days, or the four to six people in front of him were desperate to prove they could outdrink each other.

The waitress slipped him a coffee cup and an apologetic grin.

Shadow smiled back. This was a friendly town. Small towns were often friendly. He would have to remember that, if he ever got to a point where his schedule wasn’t dictated to him anymore. Maybe he’d come back here and play at being normal. Not as Mike Ainsel, though. He thought for a minute. He’d like a nice, strong name, not too common, but very plain just the same. The kind of name where they’d buy that he was just a construction worker or something of the sort, big and friendly and not bothering himself with thinking overly much.

Chuck, he thought, maybe. Or Ted. Something short and easy to follow with ‘heads up’. Rusty, or something. Hank. And a boring last name. Something of the Jones persuasion. Or, alternately, something with a long history in the area, where Shadow could introduce himself as Bo Unwieldylastname, of the Shreveport Unwieldylastnames.

Then they were wrapping up their conversation and Wednesday was counting out the bills, and their waitress was keeping a careful eye on those hands. Shadow liked her even more, even if it was just that she didn’t trust the old man with his too close gaze, or that she’d been around enough drunks to doubt their math skills.

He left her a couple extra bills because he could.

“Look,” she said, walking up to Shadow, and laying her hand on his arm, not in a particularly intimate way, but not terribly threatening either. “We don’t want any trouble.”

Shadow looked around the diner, over to the bar, back to the waitress.

She shrugged, tossed her ponytail. “Not us, Merlotte’s, I mean, us, everyone. We’ve got a quiet little town here, Mr. Shadow, and it’s full of good people, and even when they’re not good people, they try their hardest. So unless you’re going to try, too, you stay away, you hear?”

It wasn’t the first time a white woman had given him that speech, but she wasn’t angry with him, and Shadow was used to that kind of long-winded warning being accompanied by a glare. She mostly seemed frustrated, her mouth twisting up into a grimace, and earnest. Shadow thought maybe he would come back, after all, because trying his hardest was something he was getting pretty good at. And he said, “I understand. I’m sorry. We’ll be on our way now.”

She let out a sigh, and then put back on that genuine smile she’d greeted him with when he first stepped through the door. “Well, alright. You all have a nice day, now.”

Shadow nodded, smiling back at her. “You too. Thanks for the recommendations.”

“Oh, and Mr. Shadow?” she called, as he turned around.

Shadow glanced back at her.

“I’m real sorry to hear about your wife.”


End file.
